The Chase
by Besina
Summary: John's on his own, being chased across London. Will he find help in time? Pretty much just porn. Trigger warnings for non-con.


John's boots thudded down the street through the gathered puddles, his pursuer not far behind. He had the benefit of distance on him for now, but if he didn't change tactics soon he would quickly be outpaced. Flinging himself down yet another alley, pausing only momentarily as he careened into a wall coming around a corner, he caught sight of a fire escape located near some large bins. No time to catch hold and squirrel his way up it before he was seen; he hid himself behind the bin and tried desperately not to breathe.

Seconds later, a shadowy form flew from around the corner he'd just come from. It stopped, taking in the alleyway, the ladder, and the lack of its quarry. He tilted his head as if listening. He looked up at the ladder again - knowing even his prey couldn't scale one that quickly. Then he bolted ahead to the t-intersection, paused a moment, chose a direction and flew off in pursuit - the only way the doctor might go; toward people, lights, further into town.

Had John actually made it to that corner, he thought dismally, his attacker would have been right. It's almost as if he could read his mind. Once he was sure that any sound he made would be out of earshot, he climbed atop the bin and took a leap toward the dangling end of the fire escape. He caught it just in time and began scrambling up the thing even before it had a chance to lower itself all the way. Switching back and forth on the staircase, he made for the roof. In his long association with Sherlock, he knew the roofs of London almost as well as the streets.

He scrambled up, took a brief look around: the gradually darkening outskirts of town, or the brighter, more peopled landscape his tormentor had chosen. It wasn't much of a choice, actually; John needed to lose himself in a crowd. Find someplace safe: a theater, a pub, even Harry's if he couldn't get anywhere else.

He examined the edge of the roof, found the nearest place to jump from, took a few steps back readying himself for the leap and muttering "bloody hell" under his breath took off at a substantial pace, lifted off from the edge, hands and legs circling in the air, until he came down with a welcome thud upon the far roof. Still in a crouch from his landing, he heard movement back in the alley, the splash of water and faint cursing as his pursuer apparently had doubled back to the place where he'd lost him. Not waiting for him to make the connection, John took off at lightning speed across the (mostly) connected rooftops, only needing to make a jump once or twice more, and smaller ones at that. What he could hear over the sounds of his breathing and heart beating in his ears, didn't seem to evince anyone following, at least not close enough for him to pick it up, but then the man chasing him didn't have on John's heavy boots to give his movements away.

He could see himself getting closer to the lights of the city; closer to the humans he needed for cover, another quick jump onto the building next door, and he could find some way down and blend in until he got to an even more populous area. His pursuer surely wouldn't dare try taking him from within a crowd. A pub, a local pub where people knew him - that was the place to go. The occupants would already be slightly inebriated and unlikely to let their chum be hauled away by some madman without a fight.

He backed up, made the jump then skidded on the wet stones covering the roof. He caught himself on his hands, doing a bit of damage in doing so. He briefly looked at his scraped and slightly bleeding palms before he felt himself kicked down hard to the roof, a foot resting in the middle of his back, knocking the wind out of him.

"Took you long enough to get here," grinned the man above him. Before John got his wits about him, he felt his coat being roughly ripped from him, his arms grappled behind his back and secured with a number of zip ties. The man working quickly above him, having scrambled behind him, replacing the pressure on his back with a hand pushing him down. Soldier training kicked in and even with his hands immobilized, he managed to escape the hold, flip himself over, and begin to kick toward his attacker, who, seemingly expecting this eventuality, caught hold of the soldier's foot, hauled it up in the air, leaving John no purchase on the ground, grabbed the other leg and expertly flipped him back over.

John felt thin fingers digging into pressure points as his chest hit the ground once more, agony took him if he tried to move one way or the other.

"Don't fuss," came the order from above him. He heard, more than felt, his belt coming undone and sliding back through the the loops; seconds later, it was in his mouth, threaded through the buckle, and pulled tight, effectively muting the doctor and giving his captor a means to control his head. At least it couldn't be effectively buckled when it was on that tightly, but that was small recompense, considering. He felt his jacket being thrust hurriedly beneath his head on the stony surface as the flies on his denims were pulled open and slid down his legs along with his pants. A foot kicked his legs as wide as they would go, with his denims pinning his knees, while a hand pulled back on the gag/leash. John's head snapped back with a muffled "mmph". The hand came down on his back again, pressing his chest down, while keeping his hips in the air.

"Stay little doggie, or I shall be forced to hurt you again. Do you understand?"

Defeated, John merely nodded his head. His teeth bit down on the belt, but he couldn't get it to fold enough to allow him any form of recognizable speech.

"Hmm...what do we have here?" He didn't feel the tension on the leash give in the least, but he could tell the man was now crouching behind him, kneeling on the denims that now trapped his knees. He was so close, so close to freedom he could almost scream. He could hear the sounds of people below on the street. He'd been so near. He struggled a bit, futilely he knew, but he was pinned and a vicious yank on the belt, snapped his head back and left him aware in no uncertain terms who exactly was in control here. A garbled "urhgk" was all he could manage in response.

The man went back to his explorations. "Looks like you've got a nice, tight little arsehole, don't you?" The question was largely rhetorical so John made no attempt to answer. He felt fingers move softly across it, then drop down to squeeze his sac. Another nonsensical sound made its way from John's lips. "Tell me," continued his assailant, "has anyone ever taken you there before?" A quick yank on the belt made it clear that this query demanded an answer. He lowered his head and shook it slowly. "Ah. You're straight then, doctor? How lovely for me! Let's see if we can change your mind." He felt another squeeze on his balls, and he moaned despite himself, partly in pain, partly in defeat, and if he wanted to be honest with himself - which he didn't - partly in arousal? He shook his head to clear it.

The delicate fingertips went back to exploring his tight puckered arse. "Well, I don't want you to think I'm quite the monster you do, so as this is your first time..." At this John let out a huge squeal of objection and tried to move, but found the hand pushing his back down had returned. "...as I was saying, as this is your first time, I won't make it utterly horrid for you. After all, I am getting what I came for, even if it meant a merry chase," the voice lowered itself to his ear, and continued huskily, "and that was fun! Nothing like a good chase to get me in the mood."

Suddenly, John felt a warm hand snake between his legs, gently stroke his cock until he quite embarrassingly started to get hard. "Nothing to be ashamed of," assured the voice, "your body just knows what feels good." A few more gentle strokes and the hand moved back to his sac, fondling and rubbing it gently, almost lovingly. "Feels good, hm?" John refused to answer. His assailant didn't seem to mind. Then fingers and a thumb began rubbing in light circles over his perineum. John, frustrated, sure of what was going to happen and confused beyond measure began to feel tears running down his cheeks, dropping onto the jacket pillowed beneath his head.

"Just relax, doctor, it will actually feel quite good, I guarantee it." _Or what? thought John, you'll do it again for free?_ "Yes, I will," came the response. This was quite creepy, the man was in his head. The fingers continued to massage him, moving between his cock, balls, perineum and slowly massaging the opening of his anus. Slight pressure at first, then when John shifted his hips, slightly more, as his assailant felt his muscles begin to relax. Hot breath over his opening had him tensing up once again, but the languorous lick that was placed there, hot and teasing, had him squirming once more. John heard a package rip, then felt cold lube being applied to his arse, slowly being rubbed around to warm it, and ease the muscles back into pliancy once more. The massage went on for ages, John felt himself relaxing, as much as he could given his predicament, and a finger slid into him. It wasn't as bad as he had imagined.

His attacker was true to his word, he was making this the least horrific rape he could. John started to squirm, and a second finger was introduced, working its way in and out, feeling oddly pleasurable. A third was introduced a short time later and John involuntarily bucked his hips back into it.

"I'm going to take my hand off your back now. Don't you dare move, or this won't be fun for you anymore, understand?" John nodded. He felt a hand encircle his prick while the other digits moved inside him, the combined sensation was a bit overwhelming. John whimpered. "I think you're ready," came the hoarse voice in his ear. A few more pumps on his prick, delicate touches on his balls, and the hand jacking him was removed. He heard another package tearing, then yet another. A condom, thank the gods, he'd at least be using a condom. The gooshing sound of more lube followed as the man behind him slicked up his own cock, then slowly removed his fingers from John's arse.

He felt the pressure of a very hard cock pushing lightly against his recently vacated hole, and he sucked in his breath. "Easy now, easy, control your breathing, slow and steady - that's the way," urged the voice from behind him, as he pressed further in, paused, waited for John to collect himself before pushing in a bit further. Finally, John felt him bottom out as his assailant's balls cozied up to his arse. There was a sigh of contentment from behind him. "You feel absolutely wonderful! And all this for me! Thank you, I'm honored to be your first." John smirked at this compliment. As if he'd had any choice. "I'll let you adjust for a minute as this is all new to you, but the courting's done now, doctor, now I'm going to take what I've been waiting for."

A minute, exactly a minute by John's reckoning, went by, before he felt the engorged cock begin to slide out of him, nearly all the way, before it was slammed back home, rocking John forward - he would have cut his face on the stones had it not been for the jacket. An unearthly groan of pleasure issued from behind him, and the motion was repeated, more quickly this time. John grunted as he was impaled and stretched, a slight adjustment from behind and another quick thrust had John bucking his hips and panting. Oh yes, someone had found his prostrate. He wasn't sure if this was good or bad. The invading cock slid past it again this time garnering the unearthly moan of pleasure and frustration from John's own lips. He briefly hated himself, but logic told him there was nothing on earth he could do about it and that enjoyment might actually do something to allay damage. This was the last of his coherent thoughts as again his arse was pummeled, and he felt himself pushing back onto it.

The pace picked up, heated panting coming from both himself and from behind him, moans escaping them both, he felt the hand return to his balls, then latch firmly onto his cock, stroking him in counterpoint to the thrusts he was receiving. In combination with the prostate stimulation he was getting, he was barely able to think. Dirty words poured into his ear from his attacker's lips but he couldn't have told you what they were, he was beyond thought; his arse pummeled, his prick being expertly brought off, and the situation itself, as warped as it was, actually adding to his excitement. Soon John's hips began to buck wildly, he pressed into the hand stroking him, his back arched and a groan escaped, while his body shook and quivered, spending himself three times before he came to rest, panting.

Releasing his prick, his assailant brought both hands to John's hips and buried himself in him repeatedly, panting, praising and cursing all at once. A quick shift in the position of John's hips had the man behind him crying out in no short order, nestling deeply inside John before coming for what seemed an eternity, with quick pumps interspersed between contractions.

"Oh my, doctor, was that ever good," he finally breathed, draped over his victim's back. He righted himself, tucked himself back into his trousers, then leaned forward to remove the belt from John's mouth. John moved his jaw around experimentally, and tried to get some moisture back into his mouth. A snipping sound, and two seconds later, the zip ties fell to the roof, allowing John to move his arms back in front of him and massage some life back into them.

A coat was cast down next to him on the rocky rooftop, and his assailant dropped down lengthwise on it, observing him and smiling. "Don't forget your trousers," he reminded him, eyes constantly moving over his face, reading as much as he could.

When John was fully dressed again, Sherlock opened up his arms, beckoning him closer. John rolled in next to him.

"Was that alright John? Are you okay?"

"Perfect, Sherlock," John grinned. "Just perfect." He moved in closer as Sherlock folded him in his arms for a quick cuddle before they headed home.


End file.
